It’s really difficult for me to be grateful. Not because I’m not humble, or because I don’t believe in it, or because I’m that selfish. I’m sure I’m all of these things, a little bit. We all are.

It’s because I’m overwhelmed.

I’m ridiculously anxious about going to my folks’ house for the holiday tomorrow. I haven’t spoken to them in almost two months. I had made a deal with myself that I would limit contact with them until after the election, for one. And for two – I realized that anytime I interact with them, I feel like less of a person, and certainly less of an adult.

This morning my partner was encouraging me to say out loud three things I was grateful about, regarding my parents. I could only come up with two – but hey, it was better than zero. I believe that sounds have consequence, and that the words you say reverberate through the universe in a specific way, so I try not to say out loud anything I don’t mean.

And gratitude in general falls into a category that it is really difficult for me to mean. I don’t want it to be wasted or untrue. When I’m really, truly grateful, I can’t stop talking about it – but those times are fewer and fewer these days as I just feel harried and pressured by the pace of life. It’s not supposed to be like this.

So.

I’m grateful that both my parents are still alive.

I’m grateful that my father’s health is improving.

I’m grateful that my mother is happier than she was three years ago.

I’m grateful that I grew up with two sisters who taught me about the world, each in their own way, even if we don’t speak much now.

I’m grateful that I have a partner who is willing to lie in bed with me in the mornings and listen to my worries.

I’m grateful that I understand my fear, so that I can move out of it’s control.

These statements are going to be my armor for the visit home. They are the armor against the discussions of my wardrobe, my haircut, all the usual nonsense we gender-non-conforming folk have to deal with from those who don’t understand or who are afraid of the simple fact that we are living as we please regardless of what they think. These statements will be my armor for any discussion of politics or religion, any leading questions about why my acting career isn’t further along, why I don’t make more money.

I will be grateful for the company of the people who raised me. I am grateful the love me, even when their love feels more like pain.

I’m not usually a patriotic person, but I’m proud of the American people right now.

I understand all those who choose not to participate because the system is corrupt, but IMHO there are few things as powerful as changing the system from within. It’s what I learned at the Prestigious Women’s College – use your power for good and not for evil. And I believe that in not electing the lyingest-liar, and in going 4 for 4 for marriage equality (FINALLY, people), we might just have pushed the cause of good a little further.

i don’t do well with large gatherings of people – crowd noise can make me burst spontaneously into tears, even if it’s a crowd cheering for joy. large group events like election day send me hiding to my room with a cup of tea and something entirely unrelated – a video game, and encompassing book, a stiff drink. today however found my partner and i running down the block (our morning run, not just gotta-get-there-running) to our local polling place, hoping to avoid the crowds. we succeeded in our civic duties with little distress, but now the waiting game keeps me agitated. tonight we’ll be in the thick of the crowd noise, choosing to attend a large, free election night gathering in Grand Park in downtown LA. I’m going for the beer garden, and the hopes that the cheers of joy will be coming from the political party that doesn’t make me feel like less than a second-class citizen. i hope all my glbtqio friends and allies considered their choices carefully! i tend to believe this country is too large and too politically flawed, but that doesn’t mean i’m not going to participate. get out and vote!

C’s last remaining grandparent passed this week, and so tomorrow will find us on a plane headed to CT and NYC for the services. The upside, we get to see family and friends we’ve missed since moving to California five years ago. The downside, of course, is the passing of the ancestors.

Even though I’m not exactly getting on with my folks as of late (politics, politics, sigh), C and I are both lucky to still have all our parents, but as they age and we age, it grows bittersweet. Another reminder that there is never a better time to do what it is you’re meant to be doing, regardless of what anyone else says. Throw caution to the wind – turn around so the gusts can blow you forwards instead of backwards, and let yourself be carried. You can do it, so go, now, and start. The beginning is all. Your life is the reward.

Today I just want to say thanks. I’m doing a lot of work on feeling more gratitude. It’s difficult, because my default mode these days is just to feel stress and overwhelm.

So thank you. Thank you for reading. I started writing here with a firm promise not to mask any of my insecurities, and you’re still here. I feel truly grateful for that.

I’m doing a real push in my career right now – trying to make connections with the casting teams of the new wave of queer-themed tv shows, and it’s incredibly scary. But I’m getting better at putting myself out there, in part because I know I can always come back here and decompress in a safe space. Once upon a time I had a friend who started blogging, and she got some feedback from her readers that she was whining too much and suchlike. I know the trolls are out there, but I think particularly in light of the digital alienation that walks hand in hand with our over-connectedness, we need to take the time to create these kind of safe arenas.

So thanks again for letting me vent, and be insecure, and write about my fears, and write about dumb things like clothes and weight, and not dumb things like my life and my dream to actually do what I love for a living. Thanks for caring enough to read the public diary of a shy/pretty butch somewhere out in the wasteland of LA.